Her target was a fifty-four year old man who lived with his mother, an obese neighborhood woman, a widow named Dawn Plote. She closed the book that she had been pretending to read and gathered her black umbrella and her backpack, a childish accoutrement she despised. I saw her face and it was the face that had been hidden from me in dreams, a face very much like yours, Lucia. Now for it, Thames! Make as great a row as you can to divert his attention. " All day long the phrase interpolated her thoughts.
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